CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
A WOMAN appeared only seconds behind the child. She raced toward the moerith with the same speed, although the look of panic on her face made it clear she was not rushing from joy at rediscovering the lost pet. She yanked the girl back from the animal, ignoring her wails of protest.
If the woman's protectiveness had not made it obvious she was the young girl's mother, her features would have. She had the same long, black hair as her daughter, the same bright blue eyes. Her angular features and thin frame also pointed to a familial relation, and so did the deep olive complexion of her skin. Meaghan held her breath, not daring to believe the moerith had led them directly to the village from the Writer's book.
“Who are you?” the woman demanded. “What purpose do you have in the gorge?”
“We have an injured man,” Faillen responded. He gestured toward Talis. “I found the moerith in the forest. We followed him to you, hoping you might have a Healer in your village.”
“A Healer,” she echoed, and stepped backward, pushing her child with her. Her eyes snapped from Faillen to Talis. “No,” she whispered, and then spoke more firmly. “You can't come inside the protection. No one is allowed.”
“How did you learn the village protection spell?” Cal asked her. “Only Guardians are supposed to know it.”
“We have no Guardians,” she answered, moving further back. Her child disappeared behind her, made invisible by the village's border. “It's not the same spell as yours. You need to go.”
“We can't,” Cal said. “If we don't find someone to heal our friend, he'll die. If you don't have a Healer, you must know of a village that does.”
Her eyes moved back to Talis. “We have a Healer,” she conceded. “I'll check if he's willing to meet you, but you can't come inside.”
“I understand,” Cal responded. “Please tell him Cal is making the request. He should know my name.”
“I'll see what I can do,” she said, and turned from them, disappearing as quickly as her daughter had.
“Wait.” Faillen stepped forward, calling the word after the woman. Although they could no longer see her, the spell would allow her to see and hear them. She did not reappear, but Faillen kept talking anyway. “Give a message to Élana, too. Tell her Meaghan's with us.”
The woman reappeared. “How do you know of Élana?” she demanded. “How do you know to invoke her name, her family grief?” Her eyes shot fire as they moved from Faillen to search the faces around him. “How dare you come here and…” her voice trailed off when her gaze reached Meaghan. She drew a hand to her lips and pressed her fingers against them. “It can't be.”
“You recognize her?” Cal asked.
“Not her, him.” The woman's voice shook. “She looks so much like Ed.”
“She ought to. She's his daughter.”
The woman's eyes snapped to Cal. “It's not possible. Meaghan's—”
“Dead?” Cal asked. “Not even close, though the Elders wanted everyone to think that for a time. They sent her to a place where she could grow up without Garon's interference.”
“And she's returned,” the woman whispered. She dashed a tear from the corner of her eye. “I don't believe it. I wouldn't, if she didn't resemble him so much. Are you her Guardian?”
“I am, as I was Ed's before.”
“Then the two of you can come. Élana will want to meet her. Bring your injured friend with you. The others have to stay.”
“Thank you,” Cal said. “Will they be safe here?”
“Safer here than anywhere else in Ærenden,” she responded, and approached him. “You are welcome here. May the spell be lifted from your heart.” Moving to Talis, she laid a hand on his arm and said the same. “When he awakes, he'll realize the effect of my words,” she explained and then crossed to Meaghan, placing a hand on her shoulder. “You are welcome here, Meaghan. May the spell be lifted from your heart.”
The woman inclined her head, squeezing her eyes shut over tears, and Meaghan saw the village appear behind her. Traditional houses like those she had seen in other villages rose into the sky. Interspersed among them, small huts similar to those Faillen had built for his family lined the dirt streets. She felt joy and wonder flow through her and realized the incantation had lifted more than the protection spell. The emotions she felt were not her own. They belonged to the woman in front of her.
“My powers,” Meaghan said in surprise. “They've returned.”
“Yes,” the woman responded. “The protection spell protects us in many ways. As I said, it's not the same spell your Guardian mentioned. Come. I'll take you to our Healer.”
The woman turned and entered the village. Meaghan waited for Cal to do the same, and then took Illius' reins and followed. A quick look back at her traveling companions told her what her empath power already knew. Their powers were still blocked, and the confusion and fear emanating from them only grew stronger as Cal, she, and Talis disappeared onto a street only they could see.
§
“THOSE OF us who came with Élana know who she is,” the woman told them. She led the way down the main street. “And her husband does, of course, even though he's not from your father's tribe. But no one else does. Not even her children know the story of their heritage. After your father's death, many of us wanted to escape our grief, so we came here. We don't speak much of the past.”
“You knew my father?” Meaghan asked, keeping her voice low to match the woman's hushed tone.
“I grew up with him,” the woman responded. “We used to play together when we were young, and hunt together once we grew. We didn't see much of him once he wed your mother, of course, but that didn't dilute our sorrow when he died.”
She stopped in front of a two-story yellow house and knocked on the front door. A sign announcing medicines and healing hung by the bay window flanking the door.
“You'll need to leave your horse out here,” she said, as they waited for someone to answer. “Can you lift your injured man?”
“I can,” Cal said and did as she asked. He cradled Talis against his body as the door opened. A young boy who looked to be verging on the beginning stages of adulthood peered at them from the doorway. His arms and legs seemed awkward and too long for his skinny frame. Black, curly hair stuck out from his head in every direction. A smile appeared goofy beneath wide-set brown eyes. He scanned the people standing in front of him, and then nodded toward the woman.
“Hi, Silba,” he said in greeting.
“Arland,” she nodded in return. “Is your father at home?”
“Yeah,” he said, and his eyes trailed to the man in Cal's arms. “He doesn't look good. It's too bad I'm not a Healer. I'd be able to sense—”
“Can you get your father, please?” Silba interrupted. “We can talk later, okay?”
“Sure,” he said and turned from them. Leaving the door open, he dashed up a staircase behind him, his feet echoing heavy thumps throughout the house.
“He's a little scatterbrained lately,” Silba said and stepped through the front door. “He's a good kid, though. Follow me, please.”
She led them into a small living room appointed only with the basics—a fireplace, coffee table, two chairs, and a couch. From there, they walked down a hallway to a large, open room that stretched the width of the house. A kitchen filled the right side of the room and shelves lined every inch of wall space on the left. Jars, bottles, and bins of varying sizes filled the shelves, each marked with a handwritten label. Four cots sat in the center of the floor.
Cal laid Talis down on the closest cot, then moved to one of the shelves and picked up a solid metal canister. Small holes dotted its lid. The label affixed to the front of the canister declared it held Silk Poison. Cal shook it, and then frowned at the rattling sound it made.
“These are alive,” he said. “They're not the safest things to own.”
“Things?” Meaghan asked.
“Silk beetles,” Cal told her, setting the ca
nister back on the shelf. “They make a rattling noise when they're angry.”
“So don't shake them,” a voice said from across the room, “and they won't rattle. They're only unsafe when they're awake and they sleep twenty-three hours a day.”
Meaghan turned to watch a man approach. He smiled in greeting, the dimples etched into his round cheeks giving her the impression he was younger than his white hair had initially led her to believe. Although a paunchy stomach preceded him, he walked with easy grace. His deep brown eyes sparkled when he took Cal's hand in a firm grip.
A wide grin spread over Cal's face. “I thought it had to be you,” he said. “You're the only Healer in Ærenden who isn't a Guardian.”
“You know better than that,” the man told him. “There are two of us.”
“Two,” Cal echoed and dropped the man's hand. His grin faded, drawn down by grief that Meaghan felt even though he quickly erased it from his face. “Right. Of course,” he said as he turned to Meaghan. “He means Mycale.”
Meaghan followed Cal's lead and forced a smile. It appeared the news of Mycale's death had not made it back to his family yet. “That would make you Mycale's father,” she said.
“It would. I'm Darvin,” the man responded, and took Meaghan's hand. His eyes narrowed with the contact. “You're injured,” he said. “You need to be healed.”
“I'm okay,” she insisted. “I can make it until you're through healing our friend.”
“All right,” he agreed. “But not long after. What's your name?”
“Meaghan,” she responded.
This time Darvin's hand slipped and his smile faltered. He slid his eyes from Cal to Meaghan. “She's….”
“Yes,” Cal confirmed. “But we can talk about that after you help Talis.”
“Of course,” Darvin muttered. He approached the cot where Talis lay and placed his hands on the younger man's chest. “His leg is a mess,” he said. “He's lost a lot of blood.”
“We were attacked by razor beasts,” Cal told him.
“That's never a good thing,” Darvin remarked and lifted his hands. “Neither is a prickle poison bush. We need to get the antidote into him.”
“Nick warned me about that,” Cal said. “I thought it was better than the alternative.”
Darvin glanced up at Cal. “Do you mean Nick, May's son?”
“Yes. Mycale told me once that he met May. Was she aware of this village?”
Darvin shook his head. “No one is. Not even the Elders. Mycale and I went to help another village. He met her there.” He moved his grip to Talis's leg, just above the injury. “We need to get these leaves off before we can give him the antidote, but we need to heal him first.”
“Which means accelerated healing,” Cal guessed. “I always hate watching that.”
Darvin chuckled. “Try doing it. In this case, it's not going to be bad for him. He's close to comatose. He won't wake until I force his blood to replenish. I'll do that last, just before we give him the antidote. Speaking of,” he looked up at the top shelf on the wall behind Cal. “Grab that red bottle, please. We need to have it ready.”
Cal retrieved the bottle, then sat down on the floor next to Darvin and braced Talis's body. Meaghan doubted the effort would matter, but to avoid feeling useless, she joined in on the façade, holding down Talis's feet with her hands.
While Darvin worked, Meaghan used her power to read Talis, hoping for some sign of life. She felt nothing. Even as Darvin discharged his power into Talis, coursing it through muscle and flesh at a speed she knew would be excruciating, Talis remained without emotion. Fifteen minutes passed, and then thirty. Darvin's sweat soaked through his clothes. Still, she felt nothing from Talis.
An hour into the healing, Darvin removed his hands from Talis's leg and smiled. His satisfaction washed over Meagan with the gesture. “That part is done,” he said. “The wound was worse than it looked.”
He lifted a corner of the hardened leaves plastered to Talis's skin and glanced at Cal. “Get the bottle ready. As soon as I remove the leaves, we can administer the antidote.”
Cal uncorked the bottle and slipped the rim of it between Talis's lips.
“Now,” Darvin commanded and ripped the leaves from his patient's leg. Cal upended the bottle. The red liquid drained into Talis's mouth, and Meaghan finally felt something from the unconscious Guardian—severe pain. It whipped through him like a typhoon wind. Meaghan muted her power to avoid losing what little contents she held in her stomach.
Talis pitched forward, thrashing on the cot as the antidote coursed through his blood. Darvin held him down at the chest. Cal resumed his hold on Talis's shoulders, and Meaghan pinned his legs with all her strength. Several minutes passed before Talis stopped thrashing. His eyes flew open. He stared at Meaghan, then turned on his side, and threw up on the floor.
“The poison fights back,” Darvin said. “He'll be sick for about a week, but he'll be okay. He'll also feel a lot better after I finish replenishing his blood.”
Darvin placed his hands on Talis's back, over the younger man's heart. Talis whimpered.
“It's not going to be like this the whole time,” Cal promised him. “Just focus on something else. Try thinking of your lady back home.”
“Innelda,” Talis whispered, and Meaghan knew he had followed Cal's advice.
An hour went by before Talis stopped shaking, then another before he uncurled. He closed his eyes and draped an arm over them.
“Where's Talea?” he asked.
“Safe,” Meaghan told him. “She and the others are waiting outside the village.”
He said no more. Halfway through the third hour, Darvin lifted his hands and nodded. “How do you feel?”
Talis dropped his arm and opened his eyes. They appeared bloodshot. His skin looked pale, and his cheeks had turned ruddy. He inhaled a short breath, and then grimaced, turning on his side to throw up a second time. When he faced them again, he managed a weak smile. “Better,” he answered, and Cal chuckled.
“That's the lad I know well,” he said. “Darvin will give you something to help you with the nausea until you're better.”
“How long will that be?” Talis asked.
“You'll be back to fighting with me in no time,” Cal responded.
“In other words, I'm not going anywhere for a while,” Talis muttered and sighed. His eyes met Meaghan's and she understood. He would not be able to take Talea's place in their mission up the mountain.
“You don't need to anyway,” Cal said. “We're in the village we needed you to find.”
Darvin retrieved a small green bottle from a shelf behind him and brought it back to Talis. “Take a small sip,” he said. “This will make you sleep for a while.”
Talis did as Darvin told him and soon his eyes drifted closed. Darvin returned the bottle to the shelf.
“You were looking for us?” he asked. “Our village in particular?”
“So it turns out,” Cal said. “Meaghan received word that Ed had a sister. We were hoping to find her.”
“Ed's sister, huh?” Darvin chuckled. “You're definitely in the right place. I take it you didn't know about her before?”
“No. I think I knew the most about Ed, next to Adelina, and he never mentioned her. But he didn't like to talk about his family. He missed them too much.”
Darvin nodded. “Élana doesn't like to talk about Ed for the same reason.”
“Will she talk to me about him?” Meaghan asked. Her hands shook from a sudden bout of nerves at the prospect and she knitted them together. “When can I meet her?”
“As soon as we're done. I'm sure she'll be excited to meet you. When did the story first appear for you?”
“Story?” Cal asked, feigning confusion. “What do you mean?”
“You know very well what I mean,” Darvin responded. “The story in the Writer's book. I know about it.”
“What do you know?” Meaghan asked.
“Enough,” he said. “Have you
figured out who the Writer is yet?”
“Élana,” Meaghan answered, though she had never shared that secret with anyone else. Cal grunted beside her, and she knew the choice to keep the news from him had not pleased him. “I saw her in a story shortly after I received the book from May. She and my father were talking about writing it, though I didn't know who she was at the time. I saw her again recently in another story, when she decided to come down the mountain to establish the village.”
“I met her soon after,” Darvin said. The sound of footsteps echoed down the hallway. “That's my wife. She likes to check up on me every few hours during a healing.”
“Perhaps Meaghan should go,” Cal told him. “We want to keep her presence hidden as much as possible.”
Darvin offered an apologetic smile. “That won't be necessary. My wife is actually—”
Meaghan did not hear the rest of his sentence. She found it impossible to focus on anything else but the face of the woman who had entered the room. She looked exactly as Meaghan had seen her both times in the book, although the years had added their signature to her appearance. Her slender body remained the same. Her green eyes still shined like depthless emeralds, and her face still appeared deep olive, barely half a shade lighter than Faillen's. But now, unlike how Meaghan had seen her in the stories, lines decorated the corners of her eyes and mouth, and gray wove through her dark hair.
Tears sprang to Meaghan's eyes. She covered her mouth with her hand, and then lowered it to speak, but froze when another person entered the room. This face she had seen more recently—in person months ago and as a ghost in her dreams many nights since. Her gaze coursed over his curly red hair, his green eyes, and then the dimples marking his cheeks when he saw her and grinned. Shock prevented her from speaking the words, but her mind screamed them anyway.
Mycale was alive.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
“YOU!”
The word sprang from Cal's lips as both an accusation and a punch filled with loathing and anger. He lunged forward, his hands seeking Mycale's neck and the death the young man had somehow avoided. Meaghan saw the anger mottling Cal's face, turning his pressed lips white. She saw the violence piercing his eyes, and she realized what he thought.
Aerenden: The Zeiihbu Master (Ærenden) Page 20